The Heck With The Home Team Put off by the boorish U.S. squad--and charmed by the gracious Europeans--one member of the Country Club found himself cheering against the red, white and blue

Being as patriotic as the next guy, I didn't expect to findmyself rooting for the Europeans in the 1999 Ryder Cup. Icertainly cheered for the U.S. in '91, '93, '95 and '97, butthere was something about these particular European golfers, andsomething else about their American counterparts, that left mepulling hard for an upset last weekend in Brookline, and anumber of my friends shared this foreign inclination. What mademy stance stranger still is that I'm a member of the CountryClub, which hosted the event.

Proudly, I hasten to add. The Ryder Cup is one of the greatsports events in the world, and most of the members agreed itwas worth two summers of watching the course be tuned andtweaked--and eventually closed and overrun--in order to bringsuch a special competition to Boston. Then we found out that theNos. 1 and 2 players in the world, Tiger Woods and David Duval,didn't consider it a competition, since there wasn't a fatpaycheck at the end of the day. Exhibition was the word theypreferred.

The knee-knocking, vomit-inducing atmosphere of a Ryder Cupisn't usually something one associates with anexhibition--"Everything shakes except the shaft of the club, andthat's when it's still in the bag," Jose Maria Olazabal of Spainrecalled of his first Ryder Cup shot--but let us not quibbleover a matter of semantics. A practice round may be more inkeeping with the tone of an exhibition, and on Aug. 30 the U.S.team was scheduled to come to the Country Club to play one.Captain Ben Crenshaw, a fanatical student of the game, wantedhis charges to familiarize themselves with the course, absorbsome of the history of its venerable past and generally begin tobond, something the team badly needed after the unseemly disputeover pay was aired at the PGA Championship at Medinah.

On July 27 a letter was sent to the Country Club's membership byJohn Cornish, the chairman of the club's Ryder Cup committee,saying that Crenshaw had agreed to let the members attend thepractice session, with the caveat that no guests, with theexception of spouses and kids, be brought, no autographsallowed, and no one be permitted to speak to these greatwarriors so they could concentrate on learning the subtleties ofthe course. The round would be marshaled by volunteers to ensurethat members maintained a "respectful distance" from theplayers. Fair enough. This was a rare perk for the hundreds ofvolunteers who collectively had spent thousands of hours inpreparation for the 33rd Ryder Cup: an opportunity to view theU.S. team without jostling for position with 30,000 other fans.Enthusiasm among the membership was high, and about 300 calledto say they would be coming. With family, that meant anywherefrom 600 to 1,000 spectators would be on the grounds.

Too many, said Crenshaw. How could his players bond with eachother and the course while all those people were gawking atthem? Either limit the access to 200, he insisted, or thepractice round was off. Cornish decided it was impossible tofairly limit viewing to 200 members, so a second letter was sentout disinviting everyone. The club, including the swimming pool,would be closed until 3 p.m. that day.

It was not a popular decision. Many people had rearrangedvacation plans and juggled schedules to be sure to be in townfor the practice round. As it turned out, though, they didn'tmiss out on as much as they thought they would. Only eight ofthe 12 members of the U.S. team chose to take advantage of theirprivate bonding day, Woods not among them. Still, the wholeepisode brought home how far the game has come. Back in theearly 1900s, when professionalism was a dirty word in golf, proswere not allowed into the clubhouses of private clubs like theCountry Club. Now it's the members who aren't allowed on thegrounds when the pros move in.

Oh well. I was still ready to wrap myself in red, white and bluewhen the Ryder Cup began. The Europeans, after all, had won thelast two and had retained the Cup in five of the last seven. Iwas sick of seeing that smug look of satisfaction on NickFaldo's face, and Seve Ballesteros's flaming eyes and juttingjaw. It was time for some Yankee revenge.

Except there was no smug Faldo. No flaming Ballesteros. NoBernhard Langer. No Woosie. No one capable of boiling myAmerican blood. The first European player I saw on the practicetee was Darren Clarke, a big-bellied, jovial Irishman who lookedlike someone you might see on the other side of the bar. He waslaughing, talking to onlookers, signing autographs. SergioGarcia...how could you not love Sergio? Informed by a fan thatTiger Woods had put a drive onto the roof of a tent some 300yards away from the practice tee, Garcia did likewise and stuckout his tongue in jest.

At the press conferences the Europeans were gracious,self-deprecating and funny. Asked about the Country Club's widefairways, Olazabal, who's often wild off the tee, said, "Thefairways are never wide enough for me." Underdogs was too good aword for the rookie-laden European team, Sweden's JesperParnevik insisted. "We are the underpuppies," he said. Asked totalk about the influence of the 19-year-old wunderkind, Garcia,Lee Westwood, the lone Englishman on the team, said, "It's nice.He sits in the corner and does his homework."

"Then he brings it up to Jesse to make sure everything's right,"added Clarke, "and gets a little gold star if it's all good."

Jesse is Mark James, the deadpan European captain whose bone-dryhumor set the tone for his team. He took issue with the notionthat the Ryder Cup was akin to World War III. "At the end of theweek I'll be able to shake Ben warmly by the throat and sit downand have a beer with him," he said. Informed that Sweden's JarmoSandolin seemed a bit eccentric, James replied, "I wouldn't sayJarmo is a bit eccentric. I think he's very eccentric. But wehave a lot of eccentric people in Europe. Jarmo fits in great."Asked what made a good captain, James succinctly answered, "Agood team." He believed he had one.

The Americans, meanwhile, were being, well, so American:boastful, humorless, utterly uncharming. They repeatedlyviolated the first rule of team sports: Respect your opponent.Payne Stewart was quoted as saying, "On paper, they should becaddying for us." Huh? Two-time Masters champ Olazabal should becaddying for Jeff Maggert, he of two career PGA Tour wins?Maggert may have thought so. Borrowing a line from Ben Hogan, hecalled the American team "the best 12 players in the world," aclaim that may have been true, if rude, when Hogan made it. FromMaggert it was just dumb.

There was even an arrogance to the way the Americans practiced.The so-called Gang of Four, who had brought the money issue tothe fore--Duval, Woods, Phil Mickelson and Mark O'Meara--got sofed up playing behind the methodical Europeans during the firstofficial practice round on Sept. 21 that they skipped around thecourse, virtually ignoring the 30,000 spectators and takinglittle time to try to learn the subtleties of the Country Club'sgreens. The Europeans, by contrast, spent at least five minuteson every green chipping, putting and hitting sand shots andafterward tossed signed balls to the appreciative crowd.

Was it all an act? I asked a friend who was volunteering in thelocker room if the Europeans were as charming and gregariousbehind closed doors, when thousands of eyes weren't on them."Famously so," he replied. The Americans? "Tom Lehman and MarkO'Meara have been very gracious. The rest of them...." He made agesture with his hand to show that their eyes were alwaysfocused straight ahead.

Last Thursday, the final practice day, all 12 European teammembers played the full 18 holes. Another friend who was astandard-bearer for the foursome of Clarke, Westwood, Olazabaland fellow Spaniard Miguel Angel Jimenez, said that they playedfor $50 a hole, razzing each other mercilessly. Assistant coachSam Torrance, following the match in his cart, blew the horn inthe middle of a key putt by Clarke. This was a real team. Theyliked each other and enjoyed spending time on the course. TheAmericans, meanwhile, went off as twosomes, and both Mickelsonand Woods walked in after a quick nine holes, leaving their nextday's alternate-shot partners, Duval and Lehman, respectively,to play in by themselves.

A Boston friend was so impressed with the difference in theatmosphere surrounding the two teams that he went out that nightand placed a $100 wager on the Europeans, getting 5-to-2 odds. Ididn't need a monetary interest. While watching their improbablecomeback, I found myself unable to cheer for a group of men whocouldn't get over themselves, even if they were from the U!S!A!U!S!A!

COLOR PHOTO: PHOTOGRAPH BY ROBERT BECK Embraceable two Parnevik (left) and Garcia exemplified the "underpup" Europeans' team spirit.COLOR PHOTO: SIMON BRUTY Lineup cards On the course and off, the Europeans--assembled here for the opening ceremonies--maintained their sense of humor.COLOR PHOTO: ROBERT BECK Cup overflow The author's club was tuned and tweaked for the matches--and eventually overrun by some 30,000 fans daily.

Asked what made a good captain, the deadpan James succinctlyanswered, "A good team." He believed he had one.

Boastful, humorless and utterly uncharming, the Americansviolated the first rule of sports: Respect your opponent.